The Rebel Fleet is a cordon of five battleships and several destroyers, blockading what looks like a port city just behind them.

“Turn around!” The Rebel Fleet’s loudspeaker is pretty clear even from all those miles away. Let’s fuck with ’em.

{Tell ‘em I’m an island and islands can’t turn around.}

“Fool! Islands can’t turn around!” Sam snickers. She’s definitely enjoying it.

The pirates and Japanese crew are laughing. Oreo’s enjoying it. Heck, the Emperor’s enjoying it.

“Then just those ships, then!” the rebels reply. The Japanese Navy, huh?

This time, Emperor Hiiro steps up. “I am Emperor Hiiro of the proud and noble Empire of Japan. I have come on a diplomatic mission on the behalf of my people, requesting the aid of the Merikan people.”

 

We don’t get a reply for a while. Concerning.

 

{Sam, Sam—which port is this?}

“Great—” She stops before calling me ‘Great Holy Island’. “… This is the famed Golden Port”

‘Golden Port’? Golden… Golden… Golden Gate? San Francisco Bay? This is San Fran? Wild. I don’t see a bridge anywhere, and most of the land’s forested. There’ll probably be ruins here and there, but eh.

 

…

 

It’s really taking them a while to reply. I ended up slowing down to a decent, ‘Yeah, that’s how slow a floating island would be’ speed. I feel like I might just crash into them any time now.

 

{Hey, you think we’ll fight?}

“Yes, G—guh, uh…”

{I’m USS Dick, by the way.} Come on. Call me Dick.

“… Great Holy Island, with respect, I cannot, in good conscience, speak vulgarly, though may it be your true name.”

{Oh come on—fine-uhhh fuckin’-uuhhh give me a name, then. Yeah, let’s go with that.}

“Me?!”

Oreo bumps her in the shoulder. “You have a great honor.”

Damn right you do!

“T-then, in honor of your color—be named Grey!”

{… That’s hella underwhelming.}

Oreo shakes his head.

“Aureos?”

“My princess, the heart of this ship is most certainly the heart of a man. Leave this to me.”

{Oh? The knight ain’t messin’ huh.}

“O Holy Island, you slumbered so long, that generations who remembered, had already died with the secret of your birth, but it is clear to me, this dragon knight, that you seek the Merikan romance.”

{… Go on.}

“A name that is the tempest and the squall; a mystery of power; O Holy Island, the Lightning Grey.”

 

… That’s some cringy shit if I’ve heard any—or a racing name. I’m not even that fast. You’re making me cry.

 

{Fuck no.}

“Impossible?!”

“Aureos, you have unnecessarily excited us all.”

She went and slammed his head into the deck again. I didn’t expect the onlooking Japanese to nod in approval at his cranial angle of attack.

Heck, I didn’t expect this next guy to enter this discussion.

“Fufufu.” ”“Hiiro-sama is laughing?!””

The Japanese are panicking. Don’t tell me, they have actual god-emperors now and he’s fuckin’ boutta do a transformation sequence?!

He points at the nearest PA system.

“Kaminari.”

 

I’m—I’m heartstruck.

 

It sounds so cool but I don’t wanna look like a fucking Japanophile.

 

Oreo collapses. “I-It’s good.” Tears streamed down his face.

Sam takes a step back. “I-I have seen true impact!”

Everyone’s losing their shit. I can’t believe it. He ain’t an emperor for nothing. Just one word from this guy and the world turns in reverse.

 

 

Just when it was all fun and games, I crash into something. My keel feels really violated—then I stop. My propulsion can’t do jack shit, neither forward nor in reverse.

 

I’m dead in the water.

 

Everyone had been thrown around, but no one fell overboard—I think. Anyway, that’s not my problem.

“K-kaminari?!” Sam cried. Shit, she’s already using it.

{H-hey y’all, my keel got fucked and we’re dead in the water! Yeeaahh.}

“There was an explosion of magical energy just a moment ago,” Sam adds with a faraway look towards the rebel fleet.

{… Did they magick the ocean floor up my ass?}

“I’m afraid so.”

Damn. That’s new.

“Then, shall we take flight, pri—geaugH?!” Sam bullies Oreo again. How do you even make that sound.

“Fool! They simply think that they ‘stopped a runaway floating island,’ and now the Imperial Japanese Navy must halt to show that they are truly on a diplomatic mission!”

The battleships beside me begin to slow down, until they stop just a stone’s throw past me.

 * * *

After a bunch of loudspeaker negotiations between the Emperor and the rebel spokesperson, looks like everyone’s got their plans.

“On behalf of the Japanese people, I thank you all.” Emperor Hiiro gives us a deep bow. “We will do our best to belay the rebel fleet’s aggression and engage at a diplomatic footing. May I entrust our people to Kaminari-sama until which time we must leave?”

{No problem, old man.}

“On behalf of the Merikan people, I apologize once again that we are in this state.” Sam gives a bow in response. The Emperor just gives a wry smile before he teleports with his entourage to his flagship. The two battleships move onward, and the rebel fleet lets them through.

 

Now that that’s done…

 

{Captain Scrue!}

 

Come forth! My ex-pirate captain marine commander!

A well-dressed continental marine with a feathered hat stands to salute, the butt of her M-4 at the side of her right foot, and her right hand holding the muzzle nice and firm. Yeah! Fuck chronological consistency!

Meanwhile, Sam and Oreo mutter “Whuh?! When did she get here?” “She is like a well-trained dog.” “Fool. I trained her, after all.” “Mm, that is reasonable.”

{Captain Scrue! You are to reconnoiter the San Francisco Bay Area and chart the lay of the land, the disposition of any forces, and come back in one piece!}

“Aye aye, sir!” She taps the butt of the M-4 on the deck, capitulating the beat of her words. I dismiss her, and she disappears below-deck.

Ahh, feels good to roleplay.

“K-kaminari is strangely competent.”

{Hm? Sam? Is Sam dissin' me?}

Sam kneels once again. “N-nothing of the sort!”

A’ight, I’ll stop bullying her.

 * * *

Aye. It’s me, Scrue an’er crew.

I was so sure they couldn’t break me. Fact’s is I ain’t got legs because of a raggedy-arse admiral that thought I’d be a good toy. Fucker tried, but couldn’t break me.

 

Not me! Scrue O’Dally!

 

But fock, that princess’es in the deeeep end of things—and the fockin’ ship’s alive, too! There’s no pay, but the chow’s decent, and we ain’t bein’ made sharkfeed or sent ta th’ hangman! Deal’s decent, I say.

But it’s not that—the ship knows. No—it knows.

    {Hey, ya an escaped princess or something from half a world away or somethin’? That’s fucked.}

I hate ‘em—but I agree. M’life’s focked when he puts it that way.

I just wanted to sail the seven seas—feel the salt on my skin. Here and there happened, and then it turnt to wantin’ ta sail the se’en sees, an’ bein’ a ghost on the waves.

 

Heh—I’m feelin’ plenty salty and ghosty ’bout now.

 

The smol boats the Cap’n Dick’s handed us—he didn’t even thunk we’d steal ‘em. And he’s right. It’s focken tuna-like rockin-rockin an’ loud as whoah like it’s a beast ta tame. Th’ water sprays like a hag on opioids on me face, and the power—the power—I wouldn’t happen t’ be dreamin’, aren’t I?

I talkedt ‘bout it with the lads. They’s says we can’t go back to a pirate life no moa’. So we’s goin’ all-in. It’ll be good for th’ kid, Andy, too. He lookedt a-plenty like an actual kid, now. So, we part o’ th’crew from now on.

 

In the dark, we landedt roundabout some meadows ‘bout the beach. Don’t think the rebel fockers saw. These nite spyglasses the Dick gave us are wonkers, so we’s slippedt in too easy-like.

Can’t let the toys ‘stract me. Cap’n-Shipdick toldt me ta find out what’s goin’ round ‘ere. And we pirates know just the wae, y’see.

 * * *

“Alrigh’y, how’s the whale goin’?” I’m facin’ one of me men. We go a lot back.

“Aye cap’n—Richards an’ Sonny are fuckin’ out offit an’ passedt out dead like an anchor. Secun’d squall’s still creepin’ the pub in the town roundabouts an’ I swore the drinks there’re weaker than a baby-squid, they mightn’ be back ’til parst sundown.”

Aye. Pubs’re knowledge in these ‘ere times. Y’don’t conquer the pub, y’don’t know dung-heap shit. Of kers, I made me pub crawlin’ lads get into moa’ sociable-like shirts n’ hoses like they was part-a-this ’ere port all a-long.

Whatever ther fock Cap’n-Shipshit made us wear be makin’ me swear “Gawd, make me yer princess instead” coz what-in-tarnation’s fock is a “cont’nental marine” haa? Why’s they got feathers on they hats? Cap’n-Dickship into that o’ somethin?

Three hours’ gone by an’ my men’re all comin’ back like they’s dancin’ ta a Symphonie I swore I’d forgot in m’past princessy life.

Fockers ramblin’ incomprehensible shit, but it ain’t sound like they’d come back empty, so I thunk we better scram ‘fore any’one blackt out all th’ way.

“We’re goin’ back!” ““Aye!””